Black Sheep of Europe
by Lollipoplou
Summary: One shot - On the twenty fourth of June 2016, the United Kingdom of Britain left the European Union by vote of it's people. Only problem is, the nations of Europe refuse to allow England his freedom, and they will go to extremes to keep him. No one leaves Europe, not even their black sheep.


Black Sheep

So this is a sort of one shot I thought of after hearing my country is leaving the EU. I have some mixed views about the topic that manifested itself into this, so here you go :)

Enjoy!

* * *

France, Paris, The Champ de Mars gardens

A deep rumble of thunder cracked and it's deafening boom echoed across all of Europe, the dark cloud cast an equally dark shadow across the land. France had watched the perturbing news on the television in his apartment with the curtains drawn, lights shut out and tobacco smoke suffocated the stale air.

"The United Kingdom has voted of leave the European Union as of twenty-fourth of June, with delighted leaver campaigners proclaiming it to be their 'independence day'. The sterling pound was dropped in value to lows that have not been seen since the 1985's, though stock market experts predict that this is simply a 'blip'. Negotiations in regards to leaving has as yet to be rearranged. More news on the EU referendum, to come in soon".

The news had been a blow to everyone. No one had thought that England would actually make good on his word. The threats so petty at the time. England had left them, and now all of Europe was furious. The phone on the side table rang, and France picked it up.

"He has to be brought in," Spain's voice sinisterly growled in France's ear "Germany is going to be the one to do it"

"Let me. I have more right than any of you do, my scars from our hundred year war itch" France cooly replied and waited for Spain's response.

"Don't let your personal feelings get in the way, me amigo. England has to answer for this" The Spanish nation finally relented and France smiled.

"Sans peur, I will bring Angleterre home"

* * *

England, Cotswold, Bibury

England reached up and shoved a clean shirt into the stuffed duffel, a phone clamped between his ear and shoulder. His cottage looked like a bomb site, belongings thrown about with no order.

"America, I need your help. Right now. I need you to come and pick me up. I don't care how, but it has to be now"

"What the fuck England. It's three in the morning, timezones remember? Why are you having a panic attack" American's rough voice complained, clearly not entirely awake.

"I left America," England hissed and there was silence over the line, "I've left Europe. All eyes are fixed on me. They're coming, like rapid dogs to a piece of meat. They won't let me go, they won't let me have power they can't get". The silence continued after England had finished…

"I'm on my way with a copter" The American stated seriously and England could hear ruffling background noise and thuds of him storming about his room. England opened his mouth to speak when his head snapped around, the phone fell. A nation had stepped on his soil, and they were outside the house. England slowly bent down and picked up the fallen phone, America's alarmed callings shouting out. England's spring green eyes narrowed as he felt an all too familiar presence.

"I have go. France is here for me" He explained and hung up after America promised to be there as soon as possible. He sighed as he heard the door creak open, and he turned around to face the barrel of gun. The Frenchman's eyes were violet venom.

"So, it was you they sent," England remarked, his light tone concealing his dread. He was weaponless and far from the kitchen, he'd never make it to the knife rack. "And here I was expecting it to be Germany".

"I insisted," France growled as he gripped the gun with both hands,"I couldn't allow someone else to have the pleasure. You cannot leave, mon cher. We are bound by more than the union. Our history is too intertwined to be severed so simply. You, are not leaving". England glared back at the hostile nation that would respectfully shake his hand while holding a knife behind his back.

"My people have voted France. They want to leave, and their will must be respected. Besides," England huffed an ironic laugh, "you said it yourself. I'm the 'black sheep' of Europe. I don't belong, and I'm done letting everyone think they have some kind of influence over me". Francis ground his teeth and clenched his jaw.

"Angleterre. How do you not see that without Europe, your economy will be unstable. _You_ will be unstable. We are trying to protect you from yourself!," France was starting to feel himself lose control of his anger, but his restraint was a dam, and it was starting to crack.

"Without Europe, who will you turn to? America, with your 'special relationship'? He's got his own hands full trying to sort himself out. He is unreliable, or have you forgotten world war two. He has neither the time nor the money for you. Come back". England's heart twitched at the hard truths. He could not deny the amount of uncertainty that the future held. He felt all the fear and anxiety his people felt, and it warped his stomach into a knot.

"France," He tried, his voice came out strangled "I can't go back to you all". France took a step closer and anchored England's stare with his own dangerous one.

"Non, I am not talking about all of Europe anymore. I am talking about you, and me, Angleterre. We have always been together. You and I, are connected in ways no other country could understand," France took another step, the gun only a metre away now.

"We've pulled each other through so much blood and shit, so much war. I pushed America to be independent, and you took my Joan from me. We've seen each other broken, and we knew we both played a part in it. We know each other too well Angleterre, we've been together too long to be separated like this". England looked at France solemnly, his resolve quivered at France's touching words, but the the thought of his people gave him the surge of courage he needed.

"Yes, we are connected. And yes, I am petrified for my people and their future. But, after all that is said and done, I am England. I am their country, and I must fight for them and their beliefs. If I didn't, who would I be?," It was England that took the next step forward and the barrel of the gun pressed against his chest, directly over his heart.

"I know you came here to drag me back. I know Europe is calling for my blood. But I cannot go against what I am. And that, France, is why you are going to let me go". Outside, the whipping wind of helicopter blades shrieked and England knew that America had arrived. France's eyes darted to the window and he thumbed back the hammer of the gun, though his wavering eyes told a different story. All the poison from before had drained away.

"Angleterre," He forced in a strained, choked voice, "If you do this, they will come after you with everything they have. They will not stop hunting you, and I will have no choice but to join them". England smiled a sad, small smile at the country of love.

"I know, France. But today, if our history… if _I_ ever meant anything to you, you will let me go". After a terrifyingly pregnant pause, France dropped his gun, and closed the distance between them. Slow tears streamed down his handsome face as he cradled England's face between his two hands, and lightly placed two pecks on either cheek, before he softly captured Arthur's lips in a long, tender kiss.

"You will always mean something to me, Angleterre, je t'aime". England sighed as they pulled away, tears of his own pricking his eyes.

"And I you" He whispered, before he turned and walked away from France, away from Europe. He picked up his messily packed bag and exited the house, wiping away the tears as he climbed into America's helicopter. The younger nation pitifully looked at the older, not being able to remember the last time the man look so miserable over something unrelated to him.

"Are you okay?". England turned his head to watch as France exited the cottage, the gun now in his hand, a glaring reminder that France was his enemy from now on. All of Europe was his enemy and his list of allies was thin.

England sniffed and crossed his arms around his thin frame, as though trying to physically hold himself together. "No," He answered as America's helicopter rose into the air, the lush english countryside skimming past until it gave away to the grey-blue Atlantic ocean, "No I'm not".

* * *

On ground, still lingering outside England's house, France took in a deep inhale to compose himself and brushed away the wet tear trails. It seemed Spain had been right to worry, his personal feelings had been his undoing. In his back pocket, his mobile buzzed. France cleared his throat and answered.

"Where is he France?," The Spaniard hissed in a dangerous tone. When no answer came, France heard the violent smash of glass and raised voices shout on the other end before Spain spoke again.

"We are going for him. We are _all_ , going for him. You have known him the longest, you will help us find him". France smirked as Spain hung up on him, and slid the item back into his pocket. The smirk twisted into a perverted gleeful one. He had been emotional in the moment with England, but now that he took a step back…

Oh, how it excited him so. The unpredictable thrill of a game of cat and mouse. Back in the cottage, of course he had meant every word. He did love England and everything he was. But France pined for the old days when their passion ruled over their heads. When the line between love and hate was so blurred that there was never the security of knowing where they stood with each other. In the modern day, that dynamic of their relationship had mellowed, lost the spark that had kept both of their erratic interests.

The spark that had reignited the moment England had left and thrown chaos into Europe. France sighed happily as he looked back at the Brit's quaint abode. If he were to be honest, he was actually looking forward to this, it was all a game to him. Only, France had chosen to play both sides. Whether he became England's ally or his enemy, either way, France would win.

* * *

The Game is afoot. But seriously, don't expect more from this. I have my hands full of my main Hetalia series as it is.

If you liked this, please leave a review telling me what you thought. Thank you and as always,

Until next time!


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